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She entered the museum, her face still wet from crying. This was supposed to be a joyous event – her honeymoon, in fact. Instead of lounging by the pool and touring European castles, Millie now sought solace as far away from the scene she just encountered.

What she saw couldn’t have been real. That’s what she kept telling herself anyway. However, the vision remained at the forefront of her mind, plaguing her with doubts and questions. Everything she believed to be real now shattered in the span of just seconds.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” asked the lanky man with a strong Jamaican accent.

Though her legs wobbled she remained steady and smiled. “The hotel clerk told me about a painting here, and I wonder if you’d know which one it might be.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, she had been wondering about the image when its existence was mentioned this morning. “It’s a single flower, orange in color and in bloom.”

“Ah, yes,” the gentlemen replied with excitement. “I know just the one.”

She chuckled at his jovial nature and followed behind her guide. She perused the artwork adorning each wall as they ventured through corridors of white. The vivid colors nearly jumped out of the frame, piercing her eyes and mesmerizing her senses. As they entered the next room, Millie noticed the bronze nameplate at the top of the doorway: EN FLEUR. “In bloom,” she murmured.

“Oui, Madame,” her guide responded. “Vous parlez Francais?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I speak very little French. I’m surprised I knew that much.”

“Sometimes, Madame, we recall what we need to.”

His reassuring smile reminded her of why she had been so adamant that they vacation here. She just had a feeling, a very strong feeling, that it would be the perfect start to their new life together. She didn’t understand why she felt so strongly, but Ian always agreed to her requests, so she wasn’t surprised when he relented rather easily.

The gentlemen who led her in, swept his arm toward the opposing wall, and she followed her gaze accordingly. It was even more beautiful than she’d imagined. Walking as delicately as the flower depicted before her, Millie soaked in every detail. The midnight blue background twinkled with the stars spaced across the canvas. Despite its beauty, the setting paled in comparison to the coral-hued flower that blended with the evening sky behind it. Directly in the center of the five-petal design, a silver moon glowed with brilliance.

Millie could all but stare at the sight in front of her. How can one person be responsible for so much beauty? How did they know at the start that the finished product would turn out as expected? She closed her eyes, rubbed her hand over her slightly bulged belly and wondered what kind of mother she was going to be. The only other question that remained was, “Who was the father?”

Calipea nestled in the snow, her small frame cocooned in layers of protective apparel. As the snowflakes tickled her nose and kissed her rosy cheeks, she stared up at the beautiful dance of the falling snow. The sunlight intermixed with the snowflakes, creating a prism of sparkling light above.

“I’m going to miss this place,” she whispered.

Tomorrow, Calipea will settle in at her new home. A land much different from her current one. A home where the sun’s always shining, the temperature is just perfect, and the atmosphere warm and pleasant. She hadn’t expected to fall in love with the weather, the people, and the beach. A lifetime of rugged mountains, frigid temperatures and snow-covered roads had been enough for her growing up. This was her home. She knew no different and didn’t want to.

All of her friends couldn’t wait to “escape” the chilling boundaries that enclosed them. To get as far away as their skis could take them. Not her. Calipea yearned for the chilled air against her face as she raced down the snow-capped mountain. The freedom. The allure. The independence. Nothing else calmed her like strapping on a pair of skis and hitting the slopes. The power in her hands, she zipped passed trees and sped towards her destination.

At thirty-three years of age, this lifelong snow bunny watched the flakes trickle through her fingers and readied herself to say goodbye. She brushed off the snow from her thermal jacket, wrapped the knit scarf tight around her neck, and headed back to the cabin. She still had plenty of packing to do before tonight’s Bon Voyage bonfire. As sure as she was that she’d get homesick for this winter wonderland, she also knew that if she didn’t move to California now then she never would.